


Predicament

by notlucy



Series: The Brownstone in Brooklyn [7]
Category: Agent Carter (TV), Captain America (Movies), Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: Bondage, Bottom Steve Rogers, Cock Bondage, Domme Peggy Carter, F/M, M/M, Multi, Object Insertion, POV Peggy Carter, Peggy Carter Lives, Peter Parker is a Good Bro, Predicament Bondage, RIP Structural Supports, Rope Bondage, Shibari, Sub Steve Rogers, Timey-Wimey, Vibrators
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-10-07
Updated: 2017-10-07
Packaged: 2019-01-09 23:51:54
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 5,227
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12286854
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/notlucy/pseuds/notlucy
Summary: Predicament bondage shouldn't be this hard. Then again, most people don't have to restrain a superhero.(For Kinktober 2017, day 6, bondage.)





	1. The Problem

**Author's Note:**

  * For [wittylittleknitter](https://archiveofourown.org/users/wittylittleknitter/gifts).



> If you're here because of Kinktober, all you need to know about this universe is that everything's in the future, and the points don't matter!

Steve Rogers is perfect, in Peggy Carter’s experience. Granted, her perfect might not be everyone’s cup of tea, but she’ll take perfection in the form of a sarcastic, prideful, stubborn Steve every time. She counts herself among the luckiest people on the planet to be on the receiving end of Steve’s attentions, and his trust. Trust that becomes paramount when he submits to her and allows her to take him apart.

And take him apart she does, time and time again, as Steve shows her a side of himself that’s vulnerable and shy. A side that’s just for her, one that even Bucky can’t touch. Of course, Bucky doesn’t mind, as he gets the parts of Steve she can’t fully comprehend. She marvels at the fact that their situation works at all, some days - three people who’ve been broken and put back together again carving out some small place for happiness in their lives.

Their strange situation, which began out of desperation and jealousy across the war rooms and battlefields of Europe, is now contained in the simple domesticity of a house in Brooklyn. The situation where all the taboo things they thought they’d discovered in the forties have names and codification from a community of like-minded people.

Peggy hadn’t been naive then - she’d understood what a masochist was, understood that Steve took pleasure in pain, both physical and emotional. That he’d raged against it when he was small, and once he was bigger he’d wanted nothing more than to submit to her will.

So, she gave him what he wanted. What both her boys wanted. And when they found themselves in such a brave new world, that had such creatures in it, it was easy enough for the three of them to start piecing themselves together again as they found their places.

Steve’s place, as before, was under Peggy’s heel.

Yet there is that _one_ thing. The one thing Peggy can’t do for Steve that she knows he wants. Because the thing about Steve Rogers is that he wants to please her, he’d do _anything_ to please her. And because she loves him, she’s very good at devising situations in which he has to work very hard to live up to his own ideals. Situations that involve him being bound in stressful positions, forced to hold them for hours. Which he does, beautifully, every damn time. She’s proud of him for that.

But Steve is also enhanced, as they’re calling it these days, and the thing is, when Peggy makes any attempt to draw an orgasm out of him while he’s all trussed up, he inevitably breaks the bondage.

It’s involuntary, but it’s damned frustrating. She’d never blame him, but she knows he blames himself. So it keeps her up at night.  
  


* * *

The issue came to a head, as it were, on a Friday evening in January. The three of them were in the finished basement of the house, a space that they’d transformed over the past two years into, well, a rather private offering. Namely: Tony Stark would never know. Peggy and Steve just called it the basement, Bucky referred to it as the Red Room of Pain. (Peggy thought those books were terrible. Steve thought Natasha would be offended by the name. Bucky, reasonably, suggested that they just shouldn’t _tell_ Natasha.)

On that particular Friday, Bucky had been allowed to relax on one of the two sofas in the space, having assisted Peggy quite nicely with that evening’s rig. Steve, blindfolded, had his arms bound behind his back in a rather elaborate bit of rope bondage that she’d found online. She was proud of herself, in fact, having worked hard to get everything right for the suspension, which had Steve bearing the brunt of his weight on his broad shoulders. The position was, by design, uncomfortable, arms wrenched into an unnatural angle, toes scrabbling for purchase on the ground. Realistically, he could lower himself down another few inches. But that would, to his great distress, push the plug that was currently resting against his not-so-well-prepped entrance inside of him. Said plug was attached, ingeniously, to a pole that could be fitted to an attachment on the floor. It was amazing what one could have custom-made these days.

(Granted, her darling boy usually _did_ enjoy having something filling him up, but it was a _very_ large plug.)

After trussing Steve up so carefully, Peggy had toyed with him for quite a while, teasing him with pokes and prods and, eventually, not so gentle hits to some of his more sensitive areas. She’d relented when she was able to see his muscles trembling from the strain of holding himself up, knowing that leaving him to struggle was more torturous than nearly anything else she could do to him. Stepping back instead, she reached up to pull his blindfold off.

She didn’t bother to say anything, just quirked her lips in a smile before crossing to where Bucky was watching them both. Settling in on the couch next to him, she pulled him towards her and kissed him, slowly and deeply, enjoying the way he relaxed against her. It had taken some time for Bucky to find comfort in their intimacy again, but the last six months had seen him improving by leaps and bounds. Now, well, he was her favorite co-conspirator, much as he’d been during the war. They were both wonderfully fond of finding ways to torture Steve Rogers.  

The intensity of their kisses grew until Peggy was straddling Bucky’s thigh, one leg pressed against him. She made a pleased noise when she felt his cock twitch in interest - it wasn’t always the case, though it had been happening more and more lately.

“Well done, sweetheart,” she teased, pulling back from the kiss to stroke his cheek affectionately. She could practically _feel_ Steve’s eyes boring holes into the back of her skull. (Steve never had trouble in that department, and Bucky had assured her that he was just as responsive before the serum, too.)

“Must be the company,” Bucky replied, his smile teasing, a little feral, as Peggy deliberately pressed her leg against him, an invitation for him to give himself a little pleasure if he so desired.

He did, and as his best gal, she was more than happy to give him a helping hand, getting him out of his restrictive trousers and kissing him while she worked her hand expertly to bring him off. Bucky was as charming when he came as he was every other moment of his life, and when he lifted her hand to his mouth to lick his release off her fingers, she heard Steve’s feet scrabble for purchase behind her.

“Careful, pet,” she murmured, settling herself at Bucky’s side and glancing up at Steve, feigning boredom. “Mustn’t slip.”

Steve made a pitiful noise at that, as he’d been forbidden to speak. There was a fine sheen of sweat evident on his body as he struggled to hold himself up. He was obviously exhausted, and the idea that he might be tired enough to let her bring him to orgasm, same as Bucky, was certainly intriguing.

She let the thought linger while Bucky finished cleaning her hand up, and she gave him a few more soft kisses before getting to her feet and crossing the room to Steve. Unceremoniously, she wrapped a firm hand around his shaft and began to pump methodically. Of course, she pretended to be disaffected, bored by the entire process. As though the sounds Steve made when she brought him any modicum of pleasure didn’t send a thrill racing through her every time.

The creak caught her by surprise, then, and she didn’t realize quite what was happening until she had two hundred and forty pounds of muscle falling on her, the suspension ring and hook pulled entirely out of the ceiling. Along with a significant amount of plaster.

It happened quickly, and she hit her head on the way down, the corner of a table catching her just above the eye. She landed hard, glad in some ways she could cushion Steve’s fall, considering the positioning of his arms. (Although, when his chin hit her solar plexus, she reconsidered.)

“Shit,” she managed, before Steve’s arms were around her. The ropes were always mostly for show, and with the ceiling that had been holding him in place lying in pieces on the floor around them, it had been easy for him to break the bonds. Or, rather, it had been easy for him and Bucky to do it, as Bucky had sprinted across the room in the seconds after the crash, and was now crouched next to them, looking both horrified and bemused.

“Shit, Peg,” Steve echoed. “Are you alright? You’re bleeding...damn it.”

“I’m fine,” she replied, coughing as some of the plaster dust settled in her lungs. “You’re crushing me, though.”

“Shit,” Steve said again, pulling away like someone had lit a fire underneath him. “I didn’t mean to...you hit your head, Peggy, I’m sorry…”

She coughed again, reaching up to touch the cut, wincing a bit at the blood on her fingertips. “I’ll live,” she replied wryly. “Nothing to apologize for.”

Steve looked incredulous at that, raising an eyebrow. “I coulda killed you!”

“That’s giving yourself a lot of credit, pal,” Bucky replied, clapping Steve on the shoulder before helping Peggy to her feet.

Peggy gave an undignified snort at that, leaning on Bucky as she brushed herself off, Steve clambering to his feet as well. She noted, with some small sense of satisfaction, that he apparently _had_ orgasmed - the evidence was painted all over his stomach. She wished it hadn’t been at the expense of the basement but, well, needs must.

“Peggy…” Steve tried again, the baleful look of a kicked dog spreading across his features.

“Don’t you dare,” she replied, holding a hand up. “I knew I was playing with fire. Risk-aware, that’s what they say, isn’t it?”

“I…” Steve started, before thinking better of it when he saw the look on her face. “Maybe. Pretty big risk, though. You think that’s gonna need stitches?”

“Doubtful,” Bucky replied, where he had a better angle to view the extent of the cut. “Like to see you explain that one to a nurse, though. My fella knocked me over because I cracked his marbles and he pulled the damn ceiling down.”

“What’s so strange about that?” Peggy smirked.

“True. Probably seen a lot worse in this neighborhood. I still think that couple with the nettle plants in their yard is up to somethin’,” Bucky agreed, kissing the top of her head lightly.

Steve, annoyed that neither of them was as upset about it as he was, went over to the first-aid kit they kept downstairs, just in case, to find rubbing alcohol and bandages. By the time he returned, Peggy and Bucky had gotten the giggles about the fact that the plug hadn’t actually fallen over in the kerfuffle, nor had Steve been impaled on it when he fell, which was a great disappointment to Bucky, especially.

“Don’t see what’s so funny about it,” Steve grumbled, setting to work dressing Peggy’s wound.

“Just confirms my long-held theory about what a tight-ass you are, Stevie,” he replied with a smirk.

Steve glared at him, and Peggy felt the tiniest bit bad about making light of the situation. He was upset. “You’re both being ridiculous,” he snapped. “Someone really could have gotten hurt. We can’t do that again.”

Acquiescing, she brought a hand up to rest on his cheek, stroking lightly. “I’m sorry, darling,” she murmured. “I was stupid to put you in that position. I know it’s hard for you.” There was a certain amount of angst there, having pushed him, having caused his guilty conscience.

Steve shrugged, and it was only when he finished his ministrations and she leaned up to give him a real kiss that some of the tension bled from his shoulders. “I love you,” she murmured. “Say you’ll forgive me?”

Sometimes, she had to admit, making Steve blush right to the tips of his ears still held a certain giddy pleasure for her. He nodded his agreement, swiping a hand across the back of his neck as Bucky tactfully passed him a blanket, as he was still the only one of them starkers.

Regardless of his bashfulness, Steve wasn’t done taking care of the walking wounded in his charge. He insisted she take a shower to get rid of the grime and the dust, then he put her right into bed, where he fussed about her having a concussion. Steve was a lot. But she really did love him. So did Bucky, even when the two of them got into a fight about concussion warning signs and she had to threaten to go and sleep in the guest bedroom if they didn’t stop. So they did.

Eventually, Bucky fell asleep, and Steve pretended he was as well, despite the fact that she knew he was going to sit up all night to make sure she didn’t slip into some a coma. Steve wasn’t one for half-measures.

Then again, neither was Peggy. The fact that she’d failed, once again, at her mission to bring Steve off while he was truly helpless was eating at her. More than anything, she wanted to bring him pleasure in a way that would allow him to relax, without fear of his reflexes and body ruining something or hurting her. She knew, though, that without certain assurances in place, he might not be amenable to bondage again for the foreseeable future. Which was a damn shame, because Steve Rogers was perfect, and he looked good in rope.

Two days later, she walked into Peter Parker’s office with a bottle of very nice wine and a proposal for a special sort of collaboration.


	2. The Solution

Producing Peggy’s request took more time than Peter had anticipated, though he seemed game for the challenge. The end result, by Peggy’s estimation, was worth it. She thanked him profusely, promised she’d stop by to see him and Wade soon, then headed home.

If there was one thing she could do, it was keeping a secret. Especially one this big, that she’d planned so meticulously.

(Besides, it had taken nearly as long to get the ceiling in the basement repaired as it had to for Peter to complete her request.)

She decided to try things again on a Monday when they all needed a bit of a reprieve from the news of the day. Pushing herself back from the table after finishing the dinner Bucky had made, she walked behind Steve and ran a fingernail across the back of his neck lightly. “The basement, I think, if you’re feeling up to it,” she said quietly.

He stiffened imperceptibly. Ever since the incident with the ropes and the ceiling, he’d shied away from anything heavy out of fear of hurting her again. She’d let him, wanting to give him the space to process what had happened. But tonight, she had plans.

“I…” he sighed, looking over his shoulder at her, a mournful expression playing across his features. “I worry.”

“Mmm,” she replied. “Let me worry for the both of us.” Glancing up, she met Bucky’s curious eyes and smiled. “Bucky, if you’ll join me, I could use some help getting ready. Steve, I trust you can manage the dishes on your own.”

Steve was nothing if not dutiful, which gave her time to speak to Bucky privately about what she had planned. He seemed impressed, and he had several suggestions for her to take into account before they heard Steve’s heavy footfalls on the stairs.

He knew the routine, of course, having left his clothes in the basket next to the door. Peggy didn’t mind either way, but she’d learned that Steve derived a certain pleasure from vulnerability with people he trusted, and having him nude while she and Bucky were clothed, well, it provided that in spades. For her part, she usually wore whatever seemed comfortable - that night it was a pair of black trousers and a cream-colored blouse, which she’d worn to the office. Bucky was rather more comfortable, in a pair of sweatpants and a t-shirt. (The pants had the Stark Industries logo emblazoned across the ass. She wasn’t going to ask.)

Peggy regarded Steve coolly as he entered, taking in his posture - hunched shoulders, clearly uncomfortable, a frown marring his pretty face. “I hope you’re not worrying, Steve,” she said pointedly. “I believe I said that was my responsibility.”

Suitably cowed, he lowered his gaze to the floor and shrugged. Peggy sighed, crossing the room to take him by the arm. “Come along,” she said, the command implicit in her tone.

The coils of rope on the table didn’t look different - she’d been sure to ask Peter to make them as innocuous as possible. To the casual observer, they were merely hemp, same as any other good rope. Steve, wary, looked from the rope on the table, to Peggy, then back again. She wasn’t in the mood to coddle him, so she made a motion with her finger, indicating he ought to turn around.

He did, albeit reluctantly.

“Arms behind your back, there’s a good lad,” she murmured, picking up a hank to begin unwinding it, pulling it through her fingers to work out any kinks. “Bucky, darling, can you start getting a few more ready?”

(Bucky was _much_ more willing to comply.)

Peggy took her time, starting with a double column tie around his upper arms, then working to create a rather elaborate arm bind that pulled his shoulders back severely, palms pressed flat against one another as she secured the last of the rope into place around his fingers.

“Turn and face me,” she said. Once she could see his eyes again, she smiled. “Break yourself out.”

Steve did as he was told, flexing the muscles in his arms in a way that, with any other rope, would have destroyed it. Good rope took him a bit of time, but they had yet to find anything that could truly hold him.

So when he found it impossible to break the bonds, his eyes widened in surprise. “Peg…” he managed.

“Mmm,” she replied, pleased with herself and unable to keep that pleasure off her face. “Try harder.”

His face went red with the effort that time, muscles straining until, finally, he gave up, shaking his head and looking at her in disbelief. “How…?” He managed.

“Peter Parker’s quite the problem-solver,” she replied, much to Steve’s mortification and Bucky’s delight. Peggy ignored the expression on Steve’s face, reaching over for the scissors Peter had presented to her, along with the rope. “Safety first, of course. I can cut you out with these if need be. But let’s hope it doesn’t come to that.”

Steve nodded, just a little, his eyes wide with possibility as Peggy set down the scissors and approached him. Leaning up, she pressed her lips to his, the kiss possessive - deep and ultimately frustrating for Steve when she pulled away and slipped a cloth gag into his mouth, tying it behind his head a little tighter than was strictly necessary.

“Much as I’d like to hurt you, my darling,” she murmured, “tonight, I think I’d rather you hurt yourself.”

The noise that escaped Steve was nothing short of a whimper. Peggy smiled.

* * *

It took some time for her to get Steve where she wanted him initially. She started by having him lean on Bucky as she practiced her newly-acquired futomomo skills on his left leg. Once he was thoroughly incapable of moving himself about the place, save for an undignified hop, they both helped him over to one of the padded tables.

“Up,” Peggy instructed, hiding her smile as Steve struggled, using his fingertips to brace himself on the edge of the table before pushing with his free leg to give him the leverage to hoist himself up. She didn’t miss the wince of discomfort on his face when he landed on his bound arms. “Oh, poor Steve,” she sighed. “Is that difficult for you?”

Steve gave her the look that Bucky called his Patented Little Shit Expression and she gave his nipple a rough twist in return. That made Bucky snicker, so Peggy swatted his arm playfully. “Go be useful, get me some more of that rope.”

Bucky obliged, bringing her what she needed. She wrapped a simple single column around Steve’s free ankle then pulled his leg out and away from his body, leaving him to balance his weight on his arms and lower back, which certainly wasn’t comfortable. It was also rather exposing, his cock jutting up against his stomach, flushed and _very_ interested in the activities taking place.

“Look at you,” she teased. “I’d tie you to the rig on the ceiling, but I think we both know that wouldn’t hold you.” After all, the ropes were special, but the bolts in the plaster were the same as they’d been the last time they tried.

Steve huffed, and Peggy didn’t miss the disappointment evident in his features. She handed the end of the rope to Bucky and moved between Steve’s open legs, her red nails barely grazing his shaft, teasing him with the lightest of touches. His eyes rolled back a little, and she smiled at the way he shuddered, noticing how his right leg twitched, even at that light contact.

“You’d be a terrible poker player, Rogers,” she murmured. “Your tells are so obvious.”

Confused, Steve watched as she reached for another piece of rope, twisting and twining it into what appeared to be a small harness. His eyes widened in considerable alarm when she stepped closer and began to work his cock and balls into its confines. God bless the Internet.

He made a real noise of protest when she started tightening the restraint, right leg kicking again. Still, he hadn’t started humming Boogie Woogie Bugle Boy, which was their usual safeword when he was gagged. (Bucky’s idea, of course.)

“Calm down,” she said, pinching the inside of Steve’s thigh before stepping back. She tugged on the tail of the restraint, pulling on Steve’s member in a way that would be painful, but not unbearably so. Most of the pressure would be on his balls, which was unfortunate for him. Or fortunate, if one was a masochist. His breathing was coming a bit heavier, and his eyes were as wide as she’d ever seen them.

“The thing is,” she murmured, taking the ankle rope Bucky was still holding and forcing his calf back against his thigh to mirror the position of his left leg, “you favor your right side when you come, Steve. You always kick out.”

Taking the end of the rope dangling from the harness around his bits, she started weaving it into the tie around his right angle. “But when you come tonight, darling, I’d advise you to keep still. Because I can’t imagine your bollocks are any more capable of breaking that rope than the rest of you. And I really rather think it would hurt if you were to, say, jerk your right leg. Or move it at all.”

Steve looked panicked, which was exactly what Peggy wanted. It took her some time to finish the bind, making sure everything looked pretty and all the ends were tucked in. It wouldn’t do to be sloppy. Surveying her work, she nodded. Steve’s right ankle had a complete range of motion if he wanted it, save for the fact that any motion at all would cause him pain. The severity of that pain depended on the strength of his kick. Steve understood his predicament immediately, his breath coming in plaintive little pants.

Peggy knew he was capable of holding a position for hours on end, though, so she was going to have to make it interesting. That particular evening, interesting came in the form of the remote-controlled plug that she’d discovered while perusing a website catering to the more monied fetishists of the world. It wasn’t the largest plug they owned, so she was able to slip it inside of Steve with just a bit of lubrication, watching with satisfaction as the sensation of the intrusion brushing against his prostate made his right leg twitch slightly.

The surprise on his face when he remembered his predicament was enough to make her laugh. Ignoring Steve’s muffled protest, she pressed the button on the remote that would start the toy vibrating right against Steve’s sweet spot. Satisfied at the noises of distress he was already making, she and Bucky ignored him completely, crossing the room to cuddle on the couch instead. Bucky had indicated during their conversations earlier that he wasn’t up to anything explicit, but Peggy didn’t mind. Spending time with him was more than enough for her.

Thirty minutes later, she whispered something into Bucky’s ear, and he smirked. “Hey Stevie, you okay?” He called, as though Steve was in no distress at all. Peggy knew Steve was fine, of course, though any other human on earth wouldn’t have lasted ten minutes under that kind of duress. Between the stress the position would be putting on his arms, the painful predicament his cock was in and the insistent buzzing of the vibrator, anyone else would have been begging for mercy.

But Steve was special, and at Bucky’s question, he just grunted, shifting his weight and (predictably), tugging on the rope, which garnered another muffled groan.

In response, Peggy turned up the intensity of the vibrator and went back to braiding Bucky’s hair.

Getting to her desired result took some time, but even Steve had a breaking point. As exhaustion set in, his ankle began dropping towards the table occasionally, drawing a small whimper out of him every time. Once she was sure he was flagging, she pressed a kiss to the top of Bucky’s head before crossing the room to check on Steve.

She was pleased to see he looked positively debauched up close, lips bitten red, face flushed, pupils blown.

“Oh, this must be so difficult for you,” she purred, Steve watching her every move, though she could tell he wasn’t completely there with her anymore, having slipped into some version of subspace. “What do you think, my love, can I make it worse?”

She usually could, and Steve’s hazy gaze sharpened when she wrapped her fingers around his shaft and began to pump him. He’d apparently forgotten his plight again, and her attentions caused a spasm in his right leg, which jerked away from his body, yanking cruelly on the harness and causing tears to spring to his eyes.

“Oh _darling_ ,” Peggy cooed, enjoying every minute of his distress. “You’ve _got_ to be more _careful_.”

Steve made a garbled protest, and Peggy paid him absolutely no mind before leaning down and wrapping her lips around the head of his cock. Three things happened then: he kicked, he howled, and he scrabbled back fast enough that it took her by surprise. He didn’t fall off the table, but he came close. He had the good grace, at least, to look bashful about it.

“Hmph. Ungrateful,” Peggy sniffed, flicking his balls with her fingers as she pulled back. He wasn’t thrilled about that, either, squirming with discomfort, his dignity long forgotten. “Bucky, could you lend me a hand?”

Bucky was more than happy to oblige, settling behind Steve on the table to help Peggy reposition him. Once they’d done that, he shouldered Steve’s weight and held him tightly against his chest, mostly to help him keep position. Peggy lay a hand on Steve’s left thigh, feeling the muscles twitch, the rope rough under her fingers. “You’ve been such a trooper, Steve,” she murmured. “But I’m going to get what I want. And what I want is to see you fall apart.”

When her mouth found the head of his cock again, Bucky was prepared, holding him steady as Steve fought fruitlessly against the bondage. She knew it was going to be difficult, considering the tie on his balls was causing nearly as much restriction as a cock ring would. But he was enhanced, and she had faith in him.

It took some effort, between her mouth, her hand, and a little extra stimulation from the vibrator, but it was worth it when she was _finally_ able to give Steve Rogers the orgasm he deserved: bound and entirely at her mercy. She couldn’t help the swell of pride in her chest as she watched him ride out his pleasure, knowing it was tinged with an awful, wonderful sort of pain as his reflexes kicked in and he, well, kicked out.

She was quick to release him once he was spent, turning off the vibrator, then undoing the ties that held him in place. Steve, meanwhile, sagged bonelessly against Bucky’s body. Bucky pressed a few kisses into his hair, as Peggy offered him as many words of praise as she could find. Steve was blissed out on whatever endorphins the pain had sent flooding through him, but he hummed happily at every soft touch.

The gag came out last and Peggy leaned in to kiss him once she’d removed it. “That was awfully brave of you, love,” she murmured.

Steve smiled, bringing his newly freed hand up to run through her curls. He hadn’t found his voice yet, but the dopey look on his face told her he was happy enough. She loved him like that, sweet and pliant, his worries and his fears pushed aside for a few blissful moments.

It took effort on both their parts to wrap Steve in a blanket and get him upstairs, bundling him into their big, warm bed. She sent Bucky to fetch cookies and tea - aftercare was the only time she broke the no-food-in-bed rule. Bucky was thrilled to do it. The things that made him happy changed depending on the day, but most often he found pleasure in making sure Steve and Peggy were taken care of in small, domestic ways. They adored him for it.

Steve’s recovery took a bit longer than usual that evening, which didn’t surprise Peggy in the slightest, considering. He dozed for a while, happy to be petted and coddled by both Peggy and Bucky, waking up for another cookie or a few kisses when he could manage it.

She was dozing when his voice caught her attention, one arm slipping around her waist to pull her closer. “Thanks, Peg,” Steve mumbled, burying his face against the back of her neck.

“You’re welcome,” she replied with a smile. “I knew we’d manage it somehow.”

Steve huffed a laugh against her skin. “You’re real inventive. How’d you ask Peter, exactly?”

“You’d only be embarrassed,” she replied, her fingers closing over his hand on her stomach.

Bucky groaned, rolling on his side and wrapping an arm around Steve’s waist, which meant he could touch Peggy, too. “Tryin’ to sleep,” he groused.

“Sorry, Buck,” Steve replied, though he didn’t sound sorry at all. “Just curious.”

“Yeah, well,” Bucky grunted. “Just remember you got me to thank when T’Challa’s guys show up to install the vibranium support beams in the ceiling.”

(Peggy was _fairly_ sure he was joking.)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hope you enjoyed! This one was a request for Steve in predicament bondage from wittylittleknitter. I had fun writing it! Always open to suggestions for these three.
> 
> You can find me on Tumblr at [notlucy](https://notlucy.tumblr.com).


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